


3 words, 4 you

by supremekermit



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, side renmin and two sentences of hyuckyang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 05:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supremekermit/pseuds/supremekermit
Summary: "i love you," donghyuck says. he means it, every time.





	3 words, 4 you

The first time those three words find their way out of Donghyuck’s mouth, they’re splayed across a picnic blanket loaned out from Jeno’s mom. Jeno hangs at the edge of the checkered ocean, squinting up at the sun through the patchwork of leaves that hang on the old oak tree. 

The blades of grass dig into his skin where his swim trunks don’t cover. It tickles, and he rolls away, back across the blanket until he collides into another warm body.

“Stop squirming.” Donghyuck speaks around the straw in his mouth. He’s got it sandwiched between his bunny teeth, chewing away at the plastic like it’s a string of licorice. His juice box is long empty, but he makes no move to throw it away. Jeno wrinkles his nose.

“The grass is itchy.”

“Oh yeah? And whose idea was it to lie in your backyard instead of going to the pool?” Donghyuck huffs. He kicks up his legs, and gravity brings them down atop Jeno’s, drawing Jeno’s attention to the new bandaid across his knee.

“What happened?” His fingers move on their own accord, delicately tracing the Pikachu whose face is stretched around the curves.

“Fell.”

“How?”

Donghyuck stops chewing. The straw falls from his mouth, its end flattened. “I was playing soccer with Jaemin yesterday and I fell on a rock.”

“Oh,” Jeno says because he had been at piano lessons yesterday.

Sensing Jeno’s tone, Donghyuck turns to his side, until his nose faces Jeno and he can properly squint at his face. “You should come play with us. C’mon, it’ll be fun! Tomorrow? Jaemin’s not home today.”

Jaemin is Donghyuck’s new neighbor. He has a smile full of teeth and hair with pink tips and a box of cards that he brought to class last week, which are all very important things when you’re in third grade.

“I have to ask my mom,” Jeno says. He wishes he was Donghyuck’s neighbor. The two blocks between their houses sometimes feels like a galaxy. Right now, a galaxy and a half.

Donghyuck smiles, clapping his hands together decisively. “She’ll say yes, don’t worry.” He narrows his eyes. “My cuteness is unresistable.” He breaks off the word in chunks,  _ un, real, zis, tea, ball. _

Jeno can’t help but laugh.

“Hey! I learned that word from Jaehyun last week. Doesn’t it sound cool?”

Donghyuck scoffs at the way Jeno shakes with mirth, sticking the straw back in his mouth with noise of protest. After a while, all the laughter leaves Jeno’s body and he relaxes, sinking into the grass. In the shade, the wind is soft, blowing away the heat of the summer sun.

“Hey Jeno?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Jeno shuffles to his side, nose scrunched. “What?”

Donghyuck shrugs. The straw leaves his mouth. “I heard this lady say it to her boyfriend in a movie and then they kissed. In the rain and everything.” He shakes his head, along with the juicebox. “It’s from Jaehyun’s favorite movie. He cries like a baby when he watches it with Johnny.”

“Are you going to kiss me?” Jeno furrows his brows.

“That would be weird, wouldn’t it?”

Jeno stares at Donghyuck’s lips and tries to imagine what it would feel like against his own. He shakes his head. “Yeah, it would.”

  
  
  


 

The second time Donghyuck says those words, it’s Valentine’s and Jeno is ambling down the stairs with an armful of roses.

“Dear Jeno,” Donghyuck reads, out, voice pitched and dramatic. “I think you have a very cute smile! Would you like to be my Valentine? XOXO, your secret admirer!”

Jeno groans, reaching out to snatch the glitter-covered card from Donghyuck. A pink rose tumbles from his arms and onto the school’s grimy linoleum floors. A hand swoops down to save it from the crowd of passing feet and then Jaemin’s cheshire-cat smile is making its way into Jeno’s view.

“Aw, Jeno, how about you give this person a chance instead?” Jaemin clears his throat as he reads out the heartfelt message of another card, this one plastered in an assortment of magazine cutouts that spell, “Jeno Lee, You Dunkshot Your Way Into My Heart”. Points for effort, little for execution.

“Stop it,” Jeno pleads, ducking his head when he catches the stares of a passing group. He swears he can feel the eyes of Renjun from English burning through the skin on his neck. Maybe he’ll put a curse on him, what with all the mumbling he does under his breath in class. Jeno can only pray it’s not voodoo.

Dumb and dumber (placement rotational) swing their arms around his shoulders, bracketing him in as they may their way down the halls and into the parking lot.

“Never,” Donghyuck says. He’s on his tiptoes, because the combination of being thirteen and playing basketball had made Jeno shoot up like a tree, all long and awkward limbs. Jeno thinks of the days when Donghyuck was half a head above him and considers this an improvement.

Uncaring of middle school politics, moreso because he’s Jaemin than any other false bravado, Jaemin’s made home on the hard concrete of the waiting lot. He’s still reading through the pile of cards that had been shoved in Jeno’s locker (and toppled onto Jeno’s unsuspecting face when he’d opened it to grab a textbook), though no longer aloud. Something about saving his throat for opening night of his play. Theater kids.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, has moved onto the stash of candy. He peels back plastic covering and shoves a chocolate bar it into his mouth. It disappears like a object in a black hole, until all that’s left is the remnants melted on Donghyuck’s fingers. Jeno shakes away the weird feeling in his chest when he catches a glimpse of Donghyuck’s pink tongue.

“Want some?” This time, it’s a box of candy hearts. Donghyuck smiles down at it with far much more enthusiasm than any self-respecting teenager should have about condensed pieces of sugar. “Ooh, I wonder what they say.”

The first heart is yellow. “Be mine,” Donghyuck reads, plopping it into his mouth and cracking the sweet. “Gross.”

“Oh, I want one!” Jaemin exclaims from the ground. He wiggles around, until he’s into the perfect target range.

Donghyuck shakes the box and dispenses a blue heart into his hand. “You’re cute.” He tosses it, and Jaemin snaps his jaw to catch it with success. Donghyuck reaches down to pat him on the head. Jeno can tell they’ve been practicing, like an owner and their dog. All Jaemin is missing is the fur.

“Wish it wasn’t stating something so obvious,” the corgi sniffs.

Donghyuck scoffs, and turns to Jeno with expectant eyes. “Well?”

“Sure.”

Donghyuck’s grin is electric, and he shakes the box with vigour this time. A pink heart falls into his waiting palm. “I love you.” He looks up at Jeno. “Sweet.”

Jeno’s lips part on their own accord, just enough for Donghyuck’s fingers to brush against as he pushes the candy through.

Sweet is the taste that burns on Jeno’s tongue, even on the car ride home.

  
  
  


 

The third time the words come, Donghyuck had just sucked faces with Yangyang the German transfer student and is drunk out of his mind. Neither are mutually exclusive.

“Jeno,” he mumbles, his face pressed into the curves of Jeno’s shoulder.

They’re walking back home, the long way, because their usual shortcut involves sneaking through Mrs. Park’s rose garden and jumping over Mr. Kim’s fence, and neither of that is possible when Donghyuck is on Jeno’s back, clinging like a koala to its residential tree.

If Jeno thinks about it, he’d rather have an actual koala on his back. Koalas are much more peaceful. They don’t throw drinks back like tomorrow isn’t a school night and their liver is immortal (“You have a calc test tomorrow!” Jeno hisses. Donghyuck simply shrugs and shakes his empty red cup.) nor do they spew their guts into Chenle’s gold-plated toilet (“Oh my god, I think those are Funfetti chunks,” Donghyuck chokes out as Jeno pats his back). They certainly don’t require Jeno to manhandle them out of a party, yelling out their goodbyes for them to an unhearing crowd.

Koalas, in almost every aspect, happen to be better companions. They’re relatively cute and chew on leaves. Too bad he’s stuck with Donghyuck as his best friend.

“Right turn.”

Jeno sighs, cutting over the patch of withering grass. “I know the way to your house, Donghyuck. I’ve known it my entire life.”

Even with his eyes forward, Jeno can imagine the way Donghyuck’s mouth forms into a pout, shiny with lip gloss and probably German drool.

“Just testin’ you,” he slurs. His breath, clothes, everything smells of alcohol, and the faint, lingering scent of his peach shampoo. Jeno tries to not breathe it in.

“The only thing you should be testing is how well you know the optimization formula for a sphere,” Jeno scoffs. He rounds the block, and then they’re at the head of Donghyuck’s street, the familiar street lamp tinting their shadows.

“Fuck calculus lives.” After a pause: “Do you think there’s gonna be test corrections?”

“Maybe,” Jeno says. He hopes so, for Donghyuck’s sake because god knows Mrs. Lee won’t take kindly to her oldest son failing another quiz. Being grounded and shipped off to math prep tutoring is not too far off Donghyuck’s horizons. Neither is sneaking off in the middle of the night to disturb Jeno’s sleep.

“I’ll study in the morning,” Donghyuck mutters, the words warm against the skin on Jeno’s neck. 

Jeno’s footsteps slow to a stop as he reaches the cul-de-sac, battered Vans sidestepping the old crack in the sidewalk. He looks up, curious. All the lights in Donghyuck’s house are off, windows dark, but just adjacent, Jaemin’s bedroom window is lit in an amber glow. There’s a fuzzy silhouette, then two. Shadow puppets eating each other’s faces.

Even in his lack of sobriety, Donghyuck lets out a whistle. “So that’s his reason for not going to the party. Studying for the test my ass.”

“Any louder and your mom is going to know you weren’t studying either,” Jeno reminds him.

Donghyuck drops onto his feet silently, and Jeno follows, making their way up into Donghyuck’s open window. By now, Jeno knows exactly where to place his foot so that the branches of the old tree don’t shake as he crawls onto the window sill. He could do it with his eyes closed, but with the way Donghyuck’s wobbling, wide open is a better choice.

“God it was freezing,” is the first thing Donghyuck hisses when he sprawls onto his bed. His arm knocks over a stack of laundry. Jeno closes the window and slips off his shoes, padding over to relocate the pile to the Donghyuck’s empty chair.

“Take off your shoes,” Jeno says, but he’s the one yanking them off. Donghyuck wiggles his sock-clad toes in his face and Jeno lets out a sigh as he discards of them. He rises, grabbing a clean shirt and a pair of pajama pants, and tosses them with dead accuracy at Donghyuck’s face.

“Remember to get changed so your mom doesn’t walk in on you in the morning and ask why you’re sleeping in jeans. I’m going, good night.”

“Wait,” a hand shoots out, circling Jeno’s arm. “Don’t leave, I’m cold.”

“And?”

“I need cuddles or I’m going to die of pneumonia.”

Jeno sighs, but his foot is already leaving the window sill. “You can’t die from pneumonia, it’s only 40 degrees.”

“Please?” Donghyuck’s head peeks out from the covers he’d wormed his way under. “Just until I fall asleep.”

Without a word, Jeno steps out of his shoes and sheds his varsity jacket, climbing into the space that Donghyuck’s left over. Space is a relative concept, when Donghyuck’s throwing a leg over his stomach and snuggling his face in Jeno’s neck. Nothing about this is foreign, but Jeno’s pulse jumps just the same.

“If we wake up in a few hours, can you help me with the formulas?” Donghyuck murmurs. His eyes are closed, eyelashes curled over his cheeks. His hair is soft under Jeno’s fingers.

“Sure.”

“I love you, Jeno Lee. You’re the bestest.”

Jeno closes his eyes and lets the rise and fall of Donghyuck’s breathe guide him to sleep.

  
  
  
  


“We’re going to Skype every day.”

Jeno squints at the computer screen Donghyuck had shoved in his face, the bright purple logo of NYU glaring back at him. Four years of late night calls and early morning walks, and now, a coast away. “Everyday?”

Donghyuck flaps his hand and rolls his eyes, like it’s a given. His legs are dangling off Jeno’s bed, toeing precariously close to the drinks they’d left atop Jeno’s desk. “What other choice do we have? This is your fault for not applying with me.”

The words are careless, blunt, but they scratch at Jeno’s skin, tearing through skin, muscle, bone until they hit something deeper inside. Maybe it’s regret. Somewhere along the past four years, he had forgotten about the inevitability of high school, until it all came crashing down in a spiral of personal statements about his top ten quirks and a compilation of extracurricular fluff. No matter how many times he could weave a tear-jerking story about being a middle class, suburban-dwelling, football-throwing, run of the mill kid with a heart of gold, everything seemed neither here nor there. Now, Donghyuck won’t be here, and he won’t be there. He thinks about the list he’d sent his counselor, of all the schools he wanted to apply to, and wonders why NYU never made it. “And be stuck rooming with you for a year? No thanks.”

“I would think that I’m an upgrade from Jaemin,” Donghyuck sniffs.

“At least Jaemin knows how to use a washing machine.” 

“Hey, that was  _ one _ time!”

Donghyuck looks good in pink, even when it’s from a loose red sock in a load of white clothing. Jeno, of course, would rather down cousin Doyoung’s obnoxiously grey blend of whatever kale superfruit smorgasbord is deemed miracle-inducing by the organic moms Facebook page for the week, than tell Donghyuck that.

So instead, he stares at the screen, at the little white torch in a sea of purple, and says, “You know, I heard distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

A hum.

“Or something like that.”

Donghyuck sits up like the undead being revived and turns his head to flash Jeno a horror movie smile. “You can just say you’re going to miss me, Jeno.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Aw, admit it, you’re going to  _ miss  _ me!” Donghyuck’s practically singing now, eyes bright with mischief and cheeks stretched in mirth, inching closer and closer to Jeno’s side of the bed. His tuft of bleach-fried hair peeks out from the hood of his sweatshirt, which was really just Jeno’s sweatshirt that Donghyuck now owns, because that’s the way it always works. There’s never been a Jeno’s or Donghyuck’s, because there’s always been a Jeno’s and Donghyuck’s. And somewhere, in the little hole Donghyuck has worn into his heart, Jeno knows he’s not ready for that to change.

Donghyuck’s arms find their way around him, and Jeno thinks that if he were the protagonist of a bad YA novel, this could be a metaphor. The way Donghyuck’s fingers curl around his nape, the way he buries his face in Jeno’s neck. The way he holds him close and whispers, “It’s going to be okay.” The way Donghyuck had waltzed into Jeno’s life with a stray crayon and a broken cookie, a bandaid on his cheek from his attempt to scale a tree, and never left. He’s an intruder, a thief, a freeloader. A foreign embolus that’s attached itself to Jeno’s arterial walls and disrupts the health of his heart.

But Jeno’s never been one for metaphors; that’s always been Donghyuck’s job.

“Don’t be sad,” Donghyuck whispers, carding his way through Jeno’s hair. “I’ll always love you, even when you’re a geriatric fart.”

“Tell me how you’re supposed to be a lit major again?”

“My killer Common App essay, duh.”

And it’s easy like that, to pretend that everything will still be the same.

  
  
  
  


“I love you.”

Jaemin hits the spacebar, halting the scene in an unfortunate freeze-frame that has the actors’ faces seizing in a less than flattering still. He wiggles up from where he’d been anchored down by Renjun’s small frame, and his knees knock into Jeno’s bowl of popcorn.

“Potty break!” is only excuse he offers as he slides down their short hall.

“How do you feel,” Jeno deadpans.

Renjun gathers the leftover blanket around him, shivering into the fleece with a puzzled look. “About what?”

“Dating a guy who uses the word potty break.”

Hand deep in butter and salt, Renjun lets out a grimace. He shoves the popcorn into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m sure he uses it in an ironic sense.”

Jeno snorts, leaning over to collect the stray kernels that had met a tragic end thanks to Jaemin’s lack of motor skills. “Wouldn’t be too sure about that, yesterday I heard him talk to himself in third-person while debating which cereal to pour after he’d filled up a bowl of milk.”

“We get it, you’re bitter and sad and your last date ended up with the guy asking for your HBO account,” Renjun dismisses with a roll of his eyes. Sometimes, when Renjun’s soft and pliable and making kissy faces at Jaemin, Jeno wonders how he’d spent the entirety of middle school convinced that Renjun stabbed pins into mini-Jeno every time they crossed paths. Then he goes and makes a comment like this, because what kind of asshole asks him for his HBO password after making Jeno pay for their dinner bill, and Jeno supposes his middle school self hadn’t been too far off after all.

“He said he needed to watch The Handmaid’s Tale for an essay,” Jeno grumbles, hitting the spacebar. Jaemin and his bladder be damned.

“Jesus, an underclassman too? Jeno, stop underselling yourself.” Renjun confiscates his bowl with a tug and throws his hand into the mix to wade around the grease. “You’re still hung-up on Donghyuck.”

It’s not a question as much as it as a statement, one that Jaemin feels a need to affirm as he wiggles his butt back into the seat cushion with a “Damn, that’s right.”

Jaemin doesn’t have the right to say anything is right. He’s not the one with a stupid crush on a childhood best friend on the other side of the world.

“My name is on the lease,” Jeno says, eyeing the way Renjun’s rested his head against Jaemin’s chest. Couples.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I can kick you out.”

Jaemin frowns, wrapping his arms around Renjun and resting his chin on his head. “That’s not how it works, right, Renjun?”

Renjun fails to respond, clearly invested in whatever sobbing scenario is currently playing out on screen. It’s only a matter of time until he’s snuggling closer to Jaemin, and Jeno watches with a growing urge to hurl as Jaemin takes to running his head through Renjun’s hair. His stomach flips with every whisper they exchange, with every shouted confession from the laptop screen, and Jeno hopes that in dark, they won’t notice when Jeno huddles into his blanket a little more and wraps his arms against himself. It’s just the autumn chill.

  
  
  


 

In essence, it boils down to this: from summer to fall, fall to winter, winter to spring, and then spring to summer, Jeno realizes that he’s spent his entire life being in love with Donghyuck. The moment of this epiphany sneaks up on him in the same way that seasonal allergies sneak up on Jaemin, blissful one day and sneezing uncontrollably into his lecture notes the next.

When Jeno tells Jaemin such, Jaemin sneezes into his face.

“Fucking knew it,” Jaemin huffs out as he blows his nose into a wad of tissues. His eyes are red, a combination of late nights and incessant watering. “You couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried.”

And that’s the shocking thing to Jeno. That everyone else seemed to know before him. There’s the girl he dated at the beginning of freshman year, with golden skin and sparkling eyes, who told Jeno in a quiet voice, “You always seem so distracted.” The boy he’d kissed against Jaemin’s bed sheets for the better portion of sophomore year, who asked, “Hey, who are you in love with?”

Jeno had paused, hovering over his spit-slicked lips. Earlier, Jeno had scrolled down his Instagram feed to stop at a picture of Donghyuck, smiling into the camera with his arms around a familiar face. 

_ Germany  _ _ ヾ(＠＾▽＾＠)ﾉ !  _  the caption read. His hair had changed, chestnut brown traded in for black. Jeno liked the post, then exited the app.

“Well, clearly it’s not me,” the boy had sighed before pulling him down for another kiss. He’d only smiled all too knowingly when Jeno asked if they could stay friends.

So summer turn to fall, then fall into winter, and somewhere in the start of spring, Jeno gets a phone call.

“ _ Hey Jeno? _ ” He mutters an apology to Mark, promising he’ll buy him lunch next time as he makes his way to the corner of the building, out of earshot from the passing crowd.  _ “Don’t know how to say this but uh. I’m here.” _

_ Here _ is the apartment, and Jeno takes the stairs by twos, lungs seizing for air when he finally pushes through the door and stops in tracks because  _ here _ , splayed over the couch, is the boy that he’s spent the past three years wishing he never fell in love with.

Donghyuck startles, dropping his phone into his lap, before his face splits into a smile. “Jeno--”

“Why are you here?” he blurts out.

Donghyuck presses his lips into a thin line, then huffs out a laugh. Jeno never realized how much he missed that sound. “Wow, the first time we see each other again and no, ‘Hey Hyuck, how are you doing? I’ve missed you terribly’?” He pats the empty space next to him on the ugly polyester couch and Jeno sits down.

“I wasn’t the one who never came back during the summer.”

Donghyuck’s smile tightens around the edges, giving away to a sigh. “Sorry.” No excuse, no witty response, and it sinks like a stone in Jeno’s stomach.

“Why are you here?” Jeno asks again, because Donghyuck’s taken to staring at him in an unnerving manner.

“You look older, Jeno Lee.”

“Don’t tell me I have wrinkles, Donghyuck. Answer the question.”

“I flew back from Germany, had a layover in Boston and I was eating this really good croissant when I thought, hey, I should visit Jeno instead of going back right away. So I booked the cheapest flight here and,” he jazz-hands. Then, taking in Jeno’s blank expression, he stops. “Besides, I didn’t say you have wrinkles.  _ Don’t put words in my mouth _ . You look more handsome Jeno. Not that you were ever ugly, except maybe that time in fifth grade when you chipped your front tooth and had a bowl cut--”

It’s the strange familiarity of it all that breaks the damn, an ice picket that sinks deep in Jeno’s chest, cracking apart the bottle that he’d filled with his messy, messy feelings. That’s what makes him say, “I love you.”

In the twenty years Jeno has known Donghyuck, he never once saw Donghyuck speechless. A first time for everything, as they say. Donghyuck gapes at him, mouth open in a perfect little “o”. The clock above them ticks, and every movement of the hand brings Jeno another symptom of cardiac arrest. 

“Say that again,” Donghyuck finally whispers. He scoots closer, until his knees are grazing Jeno’s thigh and he leans forward, eyes imploring. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Jeno says. His hand, a mind of its own, hovers, fingertips inches from the sharp curve of Donghyuck’s jaw. “Did you know?”

He gets his answer in the lips Donghyuck presses against his own, and Jeno can’t hear anything but the sighs Donghyuck breathes into his mouth over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. This must be a fever dream, a hallucination from late nights spent in staring matches with graphs and diagrams, but Donghyuck is here, his skin soft under Jeno’s fingers and his breathe hot over Jeno’s neck. Something in Jeno swells, like a balloon is being filled in his chest and he can’t breathe when it’s pressing into his lungs, a feeling so warm he might just explode. 

When they break apart, Donghyuck’s arms are still wrapped around Jeno’s neck. “Since when?”

Jeno stares up at him, in the way they used stare up at the summer sun when they were kids, and says, “Maybe forever.”

  
  
  


 

“I love you” then, becomes a routine. They fall into it easily, because it’s second nature to say something that’s always been on your mind, words like an afterthought that hangs on the tip of your tongue. “I love you” in the morning and “I love you” in the night, punctuated by a million or so heart emojis and blurry pictures of Donghyuck’s feet during lectures. Over Skype calls, over text messages, over whispers on the nights where they’re tucked in the same bed.

When they move in together (“I can’t believe I successfully avoided having you as a roommate for the entirety of college only to sign a lease with you now,” Jeno had sighed), those are the words they kiss against each other’s skin. Jeno perches atop the kitchen counters while Donghyuck smiles up at him, waist bracketed by Jeno’s legs.

And one day, when they’re sitting beneath the old oak tree on a blanket loaned out from Jeno’s mom, afternoon light scattered between the patches of leaves, Jeno turns to Donghyuck and gets down on one knee.

“No fucking way,” Donghyuck hisses and Jeno blinks in confusion until a small box appears in Donghyuck’s hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jeno laughs, because of course they would be the type of idiots to plan out proposals for each other, and asks, “Is that a yes?”

Donghyuck pouts, cracking open the box. “I wanted to be the one to get down on my knee.”

Jeno sighs, but he’s never been able to say no to Donghyuck. So when Donghyuck is the one on the ground, smile as warm as the summer sun, telling Jeno, “I love you so much. We’ve already been together for most of our lives, so we might as well spend another eternity with each other. Will you marry me, Jeno?”

There was never a choice, other than yes. And of course, “I love you”.

 

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in a fit of missing donghyuck, and it still took far longer than i expected ;-; the line about seasons is a reference to a k-drama called romance is a bonus book and the title is taken from "1, 2, 3, 4" by the plain white t's. thanks for reading and i'd love to hear your thoughts <3
> 
> [concrit station](https://supremekermit.dreamwidth.org/278.html) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/haetelier) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/haetelier)


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